Authors: Jesse Taylor Croft
“If you marry him now,” Ash said, “you’re going to have to go with him. He can’t hang around Atlanta or stay here, that’s
for sure. And they’ve only given us until tomorrow until the alarm goes out and they start looking for him. We’ve got to have
both of you miles away from here by then.”
“Let me finish telling her what happened,” Sam said. “I didn’t have a chance to finish.”
“Do it fast,” Ash said.
Sam began, “When the ship your uncle and your mother were on went aground last month, they managed to salvage a quantity of
drugs and medical supplies all together worth over half a million dollars, and almost impossible to get here in Georgia. A
lot of pain and death could have been prevented in Atlanta if there’d been enough of those kinds of drugs. Both Lam and Noah
suffered because they didn’t have them.”
“I know,” Miranda said. It hurt to think about it.
“After Ash salvaged the drugs,” Sam continued, “he buried them on an island that’s part of the Kemble Altamaha plantations.
The idea was that he’d retrieve them when he could do it in safety.
“When I got into trouble, it occurred to him that he might be able to work a deal with the people in Atlanta. So he and Jim
Sutton took a train to Savannah, and from there they took a fishing sloop down the coast. They picked up the chests of drugs
and brought them back to Atlanta.”
“You mean he traded over half a million dollars’ worth of medicine for you?” she asked, amazed, her eyes fixed in wonder and
gratitude on her uncle. “You did that for him?” she asked Ash.
“And for you,” he said simply.
“Ash!” she cried, leaping off the bed and launching herself at her uncle with the same loving ferocity she’d showed toward
Sam ten minutes before. “You’re absolutely wonderful!‘
“Tell me later, darling,” Ash said, trying and failing to peel her gently away from him, but adoring at the same time her
display of affection and thanks.
“So your uncle talked to six or seven of the leading lights of Atlanta,” Sam said, finishing his story as Miranda finished
smothering Ash with kisses, “and they agreed to trade me for the drugs—or at least they agreed to unlock the prison doors
and look the other way for a time.”
“But only for a time,” Ash said impatiently. “We’ve got to
move,
girl. I can’t tell you that often enough.”
“But wait,” she said.
“Oh, God,” he said, drawing deeply on the cigar which had somehow survived her recent assault. “What now, darling?”
“What will we do about Raven’s Wing?” And then the answer came to her. “Ariel! She can do it!”
“That’s a good idea, darling,” Ash said, shaking his head no, “but uh-uh. It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“In a very short while, the war is going to pass through these parts. When it comes, it’s going to cut a terrible swath. I
don’t want her here—or you, for that matter. Ariel and Robbie are going to London with your mother until the war is over.
Raven’s Wing will just have to survive on its own.”
“You don’t mean that, Uncle Ash!” Miranda said, her voice catching in her throat.
“I’m afraid I do,” he said. “They have to go to London. It’s the only safe thing for them to do.
“This land will survive the war, darling. Lots of land has survived lots of wars.” He stood up suddenly and glared at her,
then at Sam. “All right, both of you, you’ll have a lifetime of one another, but now you’re going to be apart for about twenty
minutes. Sam, get out of here. And, Miranda, if you own something white, put it on. Then pack light. The bulk of your things
your mother and I can deal with later.”
“Yes, Uncle,” she said.
Sam and Ash left her to prepare herself for her wedding. It was half past three on Saturday morning.
Soon after Sam and Uncle Ash departed, Miranda’s mother appeared in her room, offering her help, comfort, and advice. Miranda
sent her off, though, with thanks and blessings. She had to be by herself right now; she needed to gather her own forces.
And as helpful as Fanny could be, she could also be meddlesome.
The dress she chose was not white, but creamy silk, with lace around the neck and a wide, lovely V of lace down the front.
After she laid the dress and its attendant petticoats across her bed, she poured water from the pitcher into her basin and
scrubbed her face, and then her neck, chest, and arms until her flesh glowed. After that she tried to make something of her
hair—a near impossibility at such short notice. She managed in the end to devise a simple-looking but ingeniously flowing
piece of architecture that she tied artfully together with ribbons. The result left her looking fresh and youthful, and at
the same time graceful and elegant.
Not bad, she thought, admiring herself in her mirror. And all done in less than twenty-five minutes.
When she left her room and started to make her way to the parlor, where the marriage would be performed, she was met by Ash,
who was dressed in a dark suit, gray waistcoat, and silk tie. Ash led her to the wide, double doorway of the parlor entrance,
and the pair of them waited there.
Everyone else was in the parlor and dressed for the occasion. Fanny was in sumptuous silks, standing near the makeshift altar,
apparently eager to break into song. Noah and Lam were in their uniforms, and each reclined on one of a matching pair of love
seats. Ariel, in a plain but richly beautiful indigo dress, sat in a wide armchair next to Noah’s love seat. She held Robbie
asleep in her arms. Jim Sutton wore a white shirt and gray uniform trousers; he was freshly shaved, and his hair was brilliantined
and glossy. The Reverend Quintard wore clerical black with a white, priestly stole over his shoulders. He held a well-used
Bible in one hand, and a carefully manufactured smile was on his face.
The smiles on the other faces were real.
Sam stood to the side and just behind the reverend. He was wearing the dress blues of a major in the United States Army.
When she saw him, Miranda let out a sudden, involuntary cry. Ash touched her arm to catch her attention.
“You’re wondering about the uniform, I take it?” he asked.
She nodded.
“It was one of the pieces of business I managed to finish while I was still in Atlanta. In fact,” he smiled, “it was not terribly
difficult to procure, since the market for Federal uniforms is depressed in these parts.”
“You’ll notice from the insignia and badges of rank,” he went on, directing his gaze at Sam, “that the wearer of that uniform
has achieved his majority. That part is correct, Sam assures me. Or at least it will be by the time he rejoins his companions
in blue.
“You’ve found yourself a handsome young man, my darling, who possesses other more valuable qualities as well. And he’s going
to go far. He won’t stop at army major, that’s for sure.”
“I keep having to thank you, Uncle,” she said, dewy-eyed. “Well, I’ll just have to keep accepting your thanks, niece,” he
said.
At that moment Fanny Shaw launched into a fervent, swelling rendering of the Allelujas from Mozart’s
Exsultate Jubilate.
The high notes were a struggle for her, and many of them eluded her, but Fanny, as always, was game. What she lacked in accuracy,
she made up for in energy. Miranda thought her mother sang beautifully.
After that, Ash led Miranda to the altar—a small, round, marble-topped table. And she and Sam pronounced their vows. Then
he slipped the gold ring on her finger.
“Where did you find the ring?” she whispered to him as the bride and groom kissed. “It isn’t another gift from Uncle Ash?”
“It was your mother’s,” he said.
She smiled and gave herself up to the kiss.
When the ceremony was over, Ash stepped forward and made an announcement. “The happy couple are required to make a hasty departure,”
he said in a big, booming voice. “Their wedding journey will be more rushed and hectic than is usually the case with such
things,” he added in a stage whisper. “And unhappily,” he continued in his normal voice, “there is no champagne to toast them
with.…” He paused, then resumed a bit louder, “However, I have prevailed upon the powers that rule this place to put together
a perfectly satisfactory substitute punch. We can’t let these two innocent young people ride off into the sunrise of married
bliss without toasting them.”
“Here, here,” Lam called out.
A pair of servants appeared bearing pitchers full of strong brandy punch and crystal cups. The cups were filled and distributed,
and everyone waited for Ash to deliver the first toast.
But the first toast didn’t come from Ash Kemble; it came from Noah Ballard. Noah struggled to his feet and propped himself
up on a pair of crutches. He raised his cup and waited dramatically, searching out and finding Sam Hawken’s eyes.
“Major Hawken,” he said slowly, gathering himself. “Mrs. Hawken—I have to make a confession to you. I know it’s an extraordinary
thing to do at such a moment, but this is an extraordinary occasion.” He paused, staring at the two of them. “May I?” he asked
in a whisper.
“Yes, Noah,” they said as one.
Noah went on slowly, deliberately, “If a silver-winged angel of the Lord had dropped out of the sky three months ago and handed
me a golden scroll announcing this marriage at this time in this place, I would have had that angel placed under arrest as
a messenger from the enemies of the Lord. If that angel had dropped out of the sky three weeks ago and handed me the same
scroll, I would have shot him. His message would have appeared not just unthinkable to me, but evil, a vile obscenity.
“And now here you both are, married, and here I am joined with you in friendship.
“I’m truly glad that I’m here, Sam and Miranda. I’m awed and humbled to be with everyone here—but especially with you, Major
Hawken, and with you, Colonel Kemble. I never imagined that the three of us would serve in the same unit together.
“And here we are.” He raised his cup. “To Sam and Miranda.” His voice rose, surged. “You are both magnificent!” He touched
the cup to his lips.
“And finally,” he said quietly, “to absent friends.”
“Absent friends,” Lam replied. He was the first to respond.
But Sam was not far behind. “Absent friends,” he said…choked.
“Absent friends,” everyone else in the room chorused.
There were other toasts; but it was Noah’s that Sam and Miranda remembered for the rest of their lives.
Miranda went to her mother after the toasts and embraced and kissed her. Then it was Ariel’s turn. And then Ash’s. “Where
are we going, Uncle?” she asked him. “You never told me where Sam and I are off to next.”
He laughed. “What an extraordinary oversight, darling,” he said. “Of course you should know your next move.” He looked at
her. “It’s Kemble Island,” he said. “From there you’ll go to Saint Simon’s, to the Federal installation there—I’ve sent someone
ahead to warn them to expect you, by the way.
“From there it’ll be a sea journey north.”
“And you?” she asked.
“To London,” he said.
“With Mother?” she slipped in.
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply, evidently flustered. “Certain words and glances between you two have not gone unnoticed.”
“Meanwhile,” he said blithely, avoiding her eyes, “I’m off to London with your mother…
and
your sister.”
“Then I won’t see you until the war is over.”
“I fear not,” he said. “But that won’t be long. I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, Uncle,” she said.
“Go change,” he ordered. “You must be off.”
“Not yet, Uncle, please. I have to talk to Mother and Ariel just for a minute.”
He gave her a smile of impatient but fond acquiescence.
While she was engaged with her family, Sam and Noah and Lam were locked in vigorous and animated conversation. Though Miranda
was desperately curious to hear that conversation, and desperately eager to take part in it, she held herself back. This was
their moment, she knew. They deserved it. She had already had her time of glory.
Before she went to her room to change, she approached Reverend Quintard to thank him.
She was surprised to see when she drew near that much of his hostility seemed to have deserted him. The hostility was replaced
by amazement.
The reverend gave her his blessing, and promised to keep her in his prayers. Then he grabbed her hands, and holding them tight,
he looked soulfully into her eyes. “I’ve
never
seen anything like this! Never in my life! And I hope to God, dear girl, I never have to face anything like it again!”
Within the hour the sun had started rising, and Sam and Miranda were both on horseback on the road that would eventually take
them to Saint Simon’s Island.
“What did you and Noah and Lam talk about after the toasts?” Miranda asked him when they were well away from Raven’s Wing.
She was unable to hold back her curiosity any longer.
“Don’t you want to guess?” he asked playfully.
“No, I don’t want to guess. Just tell me.”
“If you insist,” he said.
“I do insist. I’m burning up with curiosity.”
“We were discussing a proposition,” he said.
“A proposition?”
“Right. A proposal that your uncle put forward to me during our trip to Raven’s Wing.”
“Well?”
“He told me he has a mind to get into the railroad business after the war, and he wants the three of us to come into the business
with him. There’s going to have to be more than one line out to the West and the Pacific, he said. And he wants to set up
the corporation that will build one of them.”
A Pacific railroad!
she thought to herself, liking that. From the moment that the flaming brand had fallen on her through the train window, she
knew she was fated to be linked with railroads. So Sam might as well make that link official and permanent—and mighty.
A Pacific railroad!
“And what did you tell him?” she asked. “What did the other two say?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you all said yes.”
“That’s right. That’s what we said.”
NOW AMERICA’S BLOODIEST WAR EXPLODES IN A BATTLE CRY FOR FREEDOM AND THE THUNDERING RAILS BECOME HISTORY’S MOST EXCITING ROAD
TO GLORY